Twelve years and brownies
Oh, Sag Harbor. It stays the same. Shops and eateries and stores may die, new shops and stores may take over. But the little village is always the same.
My parents are the same. They haven't aged a day. My relationship with my mother is surprisingly more healthy than ever now that we can each admit to and discuss our faults. We are still best friends, we are still Gilmore Girls. Less neurotic now, less picky. Also, my being on an antidepressant plus an anxiolytic really helps.
Adam and I have so far stuck to two Sag Harbor visit traditions: eating mussels in white wine garlic sauce at the Corner Bar, and shopping at the organic shop Provisions. We have yet to have pizza at Conca D'Oros, which will hopefully be better than last year's greasy mess.
As always, my husband and father are bonding over stone sculpting and art, and old movies. Mom is giving me her old outfits and jackets, and reminding me to buy jeans with longer hems. Always a fashion illustrator. Hearts.
Tomorrow, our Thanksgiving dinner will be held at the Bailey's for the first time since Adam and I have been coming to Sag Harbor twelve years ago.
Also, twelve years. Holy shit. Today, in fact, is our twelfth togetherness anniversary. It is also six months since our sixth wedding anniversary. Oh, time.
I'm eating one of Mom's brownies and drinking hazelnut milk. My mother's brownies are better than any brownie I have ever had, rich and dense and made so only one small piece is needed. I am also not just saying that because she is my mother. The brownies truly are amazing.
Twelve years. Six and a half years of marriage.
I will raise my brownie to that.
My parents are the same. They haven't aged a day. My relationship with my mother is surprisingly more healthy than ever now that we can each admit to and discuss our faults. We are still best friends, we are still Gilmore Girls. Less neurotic now, less picky. Also, my being on an antidepressant plus an anxiolytic really helps.
Adam and I have so far stuck to two Sag Harbor visit traditions: eating mussels in white wine garlic sauce at the Corner Bar, and shopping at the organic shop Provisions. We have yet to have pizza at Conca D'Oros, which will hopefully be better than last year's greasy mess.
As always, my husband and father are bonding over stone sculpting and art, and old movies. Mom is giving me her old outfits and jackets, and reminding me to buy jeans with longer hems. Always a fashion illustrator. Hearts.
Tomorrow, our Thanksgiving dinner will be held at the Bailey's for the first time since Adam and I have been coming to Sag Harbor twelve years ago.
Also, twelve years. Holy shit. Today, in fact, is our twelfth togetherness anniversary. It is also six months since our sixth wedding anniversary. Oh, time.
I'm eating one of Mom's brownies and drinking hazelnut milk. My mother's brownies are better than any brownie I have ever had, rich and dense and made so only one small piece is needed. I am also not just saying that because she is my mother. The brownies truly are amazing.
Twelve years. Six and a half years of marriage.
I will raise my brownie to that.